seara
by ilona belle
Summary: they have time for real dinner but that's not what she's hungry for.


_seara:_ in the evening

* * *

They still have those nights. Nights when they get out of the precinct before they're exhausted. When they have time for real dinner, but that's not what Kate's hungry for.

They get inside her front door and she climbs up his body, abruptly cutting off his _so what do you want for din-_ with her tongue, rough and impatient because she has been staring at him all _day_ and that little "debriefing" in the stairwell at lunch just made it worse. His hands were in her pants and she had her teeth in his shoulder when they heard the door slam somewhere above them, and then it was a nightmarish flurry of buttons and zippers and _wiping_ fingers and by the time she got back to her desk, she was so worked up that she knew the rest of the day would be torture.

So now she shoves him back down onto the couch and climbs into his lap without preamble, ripping open his shirt, sending buttons skittering into the corners of the room. He's laughing at her, murmuring _eager?_ into her ear. She scowls, biting at his ear until he hisses. His hands tighten on her thighs. _"Ouch_," he groans. "Dammit, Kate –"

She laves her tongue over his earlobe, trailing kisses over the line of his jaw. She smiles into his skin. "Poor _baby_."

He slides one hand over the curve of her ass, squeezing just enough to make her gasp and arch into him. "You're a biter when you're horny."

She smothers his satisfied smirk, shoving her hands into his pants and curling her fingers around him. He gasps, his hips jerking. He's heavy in her hand, hot and throbbing and thrusting involuntarily into her palm. It's so easy to take control, to leave him groaning and wordless and desperate under her, and the way his eyes go hazy makes her giddy.

For a moment she thinks about kneeling in front of him and really blowing his mind, but he's already so hard, shaking, his leg muscles clenched so tight, that she knows it'd end too fast. She's done it before, with her mouth, with her hand, finished him off in spite of himself, pushed him over the edge, cracked his self-control. He gets embarrassed when she makes him…shoot too soon.

She scrambles off his lap instead, kicking off her boots, tugging her pants down her legs as quickly as she can.

Before she can tug off her underwear, his hands stop her, soft and agonizingly gentle on her burning skin. Castle tugs her closer, hooking his fingers under the pale lace, dragging it slowly down her legs until the scrap of fabric hits the floor and his lips brush a ghostly kiss to the skin of her thigh. She shudders, flexing her fingers on his shoulders. She doesn't know how he does this, how even when he's seconds away from what's clearly going to be a big finish, he suddenly gets tender. It's too much. It makes her –

When she sinks down and takes him into her body, she can't stop the long, keening whimper that escapes her, her body flexing around him. Castle digs his fingers into her legs, groaning, his face screwed up in a battle for control.

"Kate –" he chokes out, strangled – "Kate, I can't – I can't – "

She grits her teeth and rolls her hips into his, the shift in angle hitting her. Her breath catches and she keeps moving, relentless, the tightness building between her legs, all pulsing wet heat. He thrusts up into her messily, catching her by surprise as he drives deeper inside her, sending white spots into the edges of her vision.

It all goes hazy after that, a long string of _oh God Castle oh God_ rolling off her tongue, the tight pressure spreading through her limbs, and he thrusts up into her again and again and _again_ and it's finally too much.

She comes hard, her body seizing up around him, milking his orgasm as he spills into her with a deep groan that rumbles through his chest.

She slumps against his chest, panting. Oh.

"So." He's breathing hard, himself. She bites back the grin. Castle never stops talking, does he? "I'd ask how your day at work was, but –"

"Shut up, Castle." She tweaks his ear.

They fall silent for a long moment; Kate shuts her eyes, pressing her palms to his chest, feeling the hectic tattoo of his pulse. He's sweaty. He smells like sweat and cologne and couch sex. She buries her nose in his neck. He smells _good_.

"Kate?"

She hums in response.

"I'm going to get up and get started on dinner." He kisses her temple, running his fingers over her sweaty hair. "I like when we have dessert first."


End file.
